


exist

by rengekusa (LEAUX)



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon Related, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEAUX/pseuds/rengekusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can be it difficult to share space with someone who already fills your thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	exist

**Author's Note:**

> I've been struggling with writing a long, post-game SDR2 fic for a while now, so this was just a short exercise to vent some thoughts about Hinata and Komaeda between chapters three and four.

The trial was grueling, even more so after it became clear the culprit had no intention of accepting our verdict with grace. After the votes were cast, Tsumiki slathered us in honeyed words, dripping with disdain. Emotions ran high, as always. No one else spared the time to care when she bared her smiling fangs at Komaeda, biting into him with poisonous pity. The flash of anguish on Komaeda's face shocked me—she had rendered him speechless. I couldn’t look away; that brief exchange sickened me. It wasn't the carefree way Tsumiki exposed Komaeda's weakness, or even the truth behind her words. Rather, it was the horrified look on his face. It was a pure emotion—no pretense, no grin to mask the pain—she had hurt him, struck him deep. What was this feeling? Why did the look on his face make me so nauseous?

A life without love or forgiveness… On the surface, no one would guess such a thing would bother a guy like Komaeda. After all, he was prone to acting out in rash, dangerous ways, pushing people to the brink in the name of his beliefs. Still, if his dedication to that cause was strong enough, what exactly might he be sacrificing along the way?

_“All I want is to foster everyone’s hope, even if that means being hated by you... Even it costs me my life.”_

When I first heard those words, I'd brushed them off. I thought he was just making excuses but, in hindsight, things were starting to become a little muddled. What happened between us in the hospital, the things he said to me in his fever induced state—I’d acted like a coward. I’d all but stuffed my fingers in my ears and took the easy way out. But how was I supposed to respond to such a sudden, honest confession like that? Lying fever my ass—it allowed him to speak from the heart, for once, but I was not ready to listen.

Why did truth have to be so much more terrifying than lies?

At breakfast the next morning, we were adjusting to Nidai’s ‘upgrades’ while figuring out our next move. Of course, Komaeda had to go and open his big, arrogant mouth again, dragging me back into the spotlight. So what if I still couldn’t remember my talent, by what logic did that make me the traitor? A traitor with no memories couldn’t be much of a threat, anyway. Still, that didn’t stop his cheerful words from planting seeds of suspicion in the others, even I could see that much. What the hell was his game—did he believe I was the traitor, or was he just pulling our strings again? He acted all the more pleased with himself when Monokuma baited us with our school profiles. As if learning my talent was supposed to be my end-all, be-all reason to exist anymore. What business was it of his, anyway? I resented feeling like he saw me not as a person, but as a puzzle—a puzzle missing just one, tantalizing piece.

In the hour before we all were supposed to meet up and explore the new island, I broke away from the group. Concerned eyes may have followed me, but I took off in a brisk walk towards the park to try and clear my head. The island sun was brutal as ever. After a lap around the perimeter, I wandered down the path toward the ‘statue’ and dropped onto the nearest bench. The palm leaves above me offered little shade, hanging still in the stagnant air. It was almost noon.

Trying to relax there in the blinding light, I didn’t notice him right away. He stood there in plain sight, staring up at the countdown clock, lost in thought as the sun soaked through his cotton hair.

“Ah—” I muttered in surprise, before thinking better of it, and his back went rigid. With a strange hesitance, he peered over his shoulder at me and offered a husky ‘hello’ before turning back to the clock. He seemed determined to keep staring at it, as if it were excuse enough to ignore me.

So it was a standoff.

I tried ignoring him. How hard could it be? I laid my head back on the bench and closed my eyes, but the angry red sun bled through, and inside I felt the same. Anger and hurt were bleeding through, as if cascading off of Komaeda in waves. Or was it coming from me? I hated that it hurt—my own pain betrayed me. At times like this, when it was hard to even be near Komaeda, I always thought back to his gentle voice on the beach. He was kind. He wanted to help me. I wanted to help him too, but what good was that feeling when I couldn't even enjoy a moment of silence with him? Existing in the same space filled me with anxiety… because I didn’t know what he was thinking. Because I didn’t know what I wanted.

The tension was awful, and I couldn't believe he was oblivious to it. Finally, I opened my eyes to see him him shuffling his feet a bit. He turned to lean against the base of the statue, facing away from me. Komaeda was fidgeting—uncomfortable, maybe? Because I showed up? Then a funny thought occurred to me—funny only because it made too much sense.

I wasn’t the only one out trying to clear my head.

So I said the first thing that came to mind.

“You don’t have a clue who the traitor is, do you? You’re just trying to stir things up.”

I could see a sad smile caress his face, even in profile, and he suffered a few false starts before the words came out.

"What I said back there—I take it that upset you?"

The urge to flip the bench I was sitting on almost overwhelmed me.

"Of course it did!" I spat back, insecure in the familiar nausea I felt upon seeing that flash of sadness. "No matter how you look at it, accusing someone of being a traitor over breakfast is just... rude." Feeling lame, I crossed my arms in a huff.

Komeada chuckled under his breath.

"It wouldn't do to lie about it, though, you're the most suspicious—the most interesting one of the lot. There's something different about you, and I'm grasping at straws as usual, but maybe that's it. Maybe it really is that simple—" and he finally leaned away from the statue to look me in the eye, "maybe you're this supposed traitor?" Even as he said so, Komaeda looked doubtful, like he didn't know quite how to feel about the idea himself. I leaned forward to the edge of my seat, struggling to keep calm.

"You sound like you’re not so sure it’s a bad thing."

"There's no way I could make a judgment call like that!" He waved his hands in dismissal, trying to force a convincing smile. "Still, it's not like we have enough reliable information to draw any conclusions. If you ask me, I think the word 'traitor' might even be a little misleading."

I frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

Komaeda crossed his arms in thought, but I didn’t miss him sneak me the briefest of sideways glances. He looked suspicious of me, but in an odd way—like he was wary of me encouraging a conversation for once. What was he worried about? Did Komaeda even get self-conscious? Somehow, the thought had never occurred to me.

"So we're trapped between this 'foundation' and... whoever Monokuma represents, but we can't know who's in the right. When faced with a threat like Monokuma, though, it seems logical that the traitor is the lesser of two evils—if they are indeed evil at all."

I couldn't even humor him at this point.

"They trapped us here and stole our memories" I countered, voice flat, but something in those words struck a chord in both of us. Memories.

Stolen memories.

That fake smile fell to pieces. He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes wide with some realization. Komaeda looked away, worrying at his left hand, muttering to himself, "Maybe we… Maybe we—"

"Maybe we deserved it? Is that what you're trying to imply?" Even as creeping fear washed over me I threw my hands up in defeat, staring at him in piercing disbelief. "What on Earth could we have done to deserve something like this?"

He blanched, paler than the day he caught fever, and I shrunk back. What the hell was—

"I-I'm sorry, Hinata-kun," he muttered, shrugging out of discomfort. He took a small sidestep towards the path, like he was ready to bolt. "That fever left me with some nasty nightmares, and I just haven't been sleeping well, lately. So."

I tried to lock eyes with him.

"Since when did you need an excuse to speak your mind?"

Footsteps frozen, he stood there wavering and it was so unlike any side of him I’d seen before. Maybe it served me right for bursting in and interrupting his thoughts, but I grew concerned in spite of myself. Concern for Komaeda was a rare commodity on this island. I didn’t like being its sole proprietor.

“Y’know what? Forget it. I’m sorry I even bothered” I said, launching myself off the bench in one swift motion. He flinched again, but I didn’t stop to look as I stalked past him, out of the park. I meant it, I was sorry. I felt sorry for myself because I felt sorry for someone like Komaeda. I didn’t know it yet, but that guilt complex was going to cost me big.

“Hinata-kun—”

I didn’t hear him. Even as his soft, tenuous voice dared to reach out to me, I convinced myself that I did not hear him.

I was a coward. I was not ready to listen.

 

<><><>

 

The trial was grueling, as there was no relief from my bitter disappointment even after the culprit accepted our verdict with grace. We cast our votes, and Tanaka-kun took his bow, and walked toward his execution with honor. His sacrifice was noble, overflowing with hope, but I had no praise to give. I was bereft. It was all for nothing—everything was tainted now, tainted by words in a large black binder.

The truth was a brutal departure from the pleasant lie we had been fed when we’d arrived.  

Masks all torn away now, I could see my miraculous classmates for who they truly were. I could feel all the way to the roots of my deep-seated self loathing. We were monsters. Rather than trying to inspire such unworthy creatures, I knew then what my purpose must be. There was no more room for doubt—I had to steel myself against my wavering heart. Lashing out at Hinata-kun was the last thing I wanted to do, as it was a waste of time, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the only way I could mitigate such abject misery—I had to detach myself, in case he was not the traitor as I’d hoped. Still, did he have to look so pitiful, so deeply wounded? It was an understandable emotion—the words were sure to be hurtful—but why did that hurt me in turn? What was this feeling? Why did those sad eyes make me feel so ill at ease?

Vague memories kept trickling through the hazy filter of that fever. I could feel his sturdy arms carrying me to the hospital; I could hear his stern voice, making sure I got there. On top of all that, he even came to visit me. He came to visit me, and my luck made sure that, even though I poured my heart out to him in delirium, my secret would remain obscured. I wished I'd dreamed it all, but I knew that would be far too convenient. Fate had a cruel way of fulfilling my dreams while keeping them just out of reach.

Closing the large black binder, I stashed it back underneath my bed. I shuddered to think of how beautifully my plan might unfold if Hinata-kun turned out to be the traitor after all. The alternative was almost too painful to bear thinking about, but in the end, I wondered if what Tsumiki-san said held true…

Regardless of what I planned to do, could something like love transcend my sins?

 

完 

 

 

 


End file.
